


Out of Character

by PuppiesRainbowsSadism



Series: Very Them [2]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, First Time, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Internalized Transphobia, Lack of Communication, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Underage Sex, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Michael Mell, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 09:08:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18913879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppiesRainbowsSadism/pseuds/PuppiesRainbowsSadism
Summary: It was easy enough to deflect when they were first starting out. Jeremy wasn’t the most perceptive person, and while that was normally fine, in this case, it was fucking fantastic. Anyone else might have noticed how Michael never let him touch anything below the waist, or found an excuse to stop before they got too far, or gave him a hand while steadfastly refusing to let him return the favour. Anyone else might have put the pieces together by now.The mother-approved condoms were sitting upstairs in his dresser and Michael’s heart was pounding and Jeremy’s hands were once again just barely trailing under the edge of his binder and okay. Okay. This was fine. This was good. He could do this..In which Michael "Experienced" Mell is dtf but also terrified. It's stupid.(I would just like to say that I hope no one is OOC in this story. I was just trying to stick to the same naming convention I used in the last one, and this is what I landed on.)





	Out of Character

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So sorry part two took so long! To quote a different small-fandom musical, "Life's a bitch."
> 
> Anyway, this is a direct sequel to Very Them, but you don't necessarily need to read that first to understand this. What you DO need to know to understand this are two headcanons: 1. Michael hoed around a lot before he and Jeremy got together, and 2. Michael has, not two, but three mothers. Because I said so. (Actually glitter_lisp said so, but I'm the mouthpiece here.)
> 
> Also, this isn't finished. I promised y'all cunnilingus, and y'all are gonna get cunnilingus, dammit. But in a different fic because I didn't want to shoehorn it in at the end.
> 
> One final note: There is some stuff in here that may be triggering for people with mental health issues: There's a pretty real description of a panic attack from the POV of the person panicking. There is one brief but serious mention of suicidal ideation/depression, as well as a couple of joking ones. Michael is 18 in this fic, but there are many casual mentions of him doing sex things in the past, when he was a minor. This fic is rampant with both external and internalised transphobia. Michael knows and acknowledges that it's fucked up, but it's there nonetheless.

It was easy enough to deflect when they were first starting out. Jeremy wasn’t the most perceptive person, and while that was normally fine, in this case, it was fucking fantastic. Anyone else might have noticed how Michael never let him touch anything below the waist, or found an excuse to stop before they got too far, or gave him a hand while steadfastly refusing to let him return the favour. Anyone else might have put the pieces together by now.

Michael was nervous, okay? No, he was downright terrified for no good reason, because here’s the thing:  Jeremy knows he’s trans. It should have been reassuring, even comforting, anything but scary, but Michael couldn’t shed this fear that Jeremy would start treating him differently the moment they crossed that line.

It was stupid, but it wouldn’t have been the first time someone wigged out when they saw exactly what they were dealing with. Precious few of his past hook-ups even knew -- all of them just when he was first starting out, and all of them the reason he stopped telling potential partners. He sort of taught himself that transparency was not the way to go there. It made him internalise some stuff he thought he’d let go of ages ago, stuff he didn’t even want to think about because of how fucked-up transphobic and self-hating it was.

And sure, Jeremy had always been there for him (with one notable exception, but that was in the past, and they’d worked through it ages ago, for the most part). They’d known each other since they were three feet tall, back before Michael started transitioning or was  _ Michael _ or even knew who and what he was, and Jeremy was there for all of it. Michael couldn’t remember the last time Jeremy slipped up on his pronouns. (It never even happened when he was Squipped, and the Squip had to have known that using Michael’s deadname would have been a surefire way to make sure Michael never spoke to Jeremy again.) And Jeremy would never admit it, but Michael knew he had researched every variation of “ftm” and “how to be a good trans ally” Google had to offer the same day Michael came out to him.

Fuck, they’d seen each other naked a number of times, but this was different. This was something that, by definition, required focus on their genitals in particular, and Jeremy was bi, but what if something changed afterwards? What if some weird mental thing went down in Jeremy’s brain when he saw -- up close, personal, and on purpose -- exactly what Michael had going on down there? Michael didn’t think he could handle their relationship changing, even slightly, as a result of having sex, but he  _ knew _ he couldn’t handle Jeremy treating him differently afterward.

It wasn’t going to happen. He  _ knew _ that, okay? He knew that. It couldn’t happen -- probably, most likely. It was just something he had to work on, just like everything else he’d unlearned over the years, and until he did, he was going to keep things nice and PG-13 on his end.

* * *

 

 

It started like this:  It was Saturday, and as per their nearly decade-long tradition, one of them was over at the other’s house to partake in video games and/or bad movies until it was too dark to walk home and it turned into a sleepover. Recently, they’d altered the tradition just a bit to include that good aforementioned PG-13 action.

So now they were making out on Michael’s bed while The Thing (the original, 1982) played in the background.

It was nice. Better than nice, Michael was super into it. When Jeremy tried to readjust without pulling away, Michael gladly fell backwards and pulled Jeremy half on top of him -- a move that had required some practise, but god was it worth it. Jeremy eagerly went along -- he was a fast learner.

Jeremy’s cold hands slipped under his shirt, making Michael jump before sighing into the kiss, letting his own hands explore Jeremy’s back. It took a long time for Jeremy to get used to that touch, and even longer before he felt totally at ease with it, so Michael took advantage of it when he could.

If Jeremy wanted to go further, he didn’t even hint at it, but damn if Michael wouldn’t have let him right then and there, insecurities be damned. He let one hand travel down across the expanse of Jeremy’s hip, its destination undoubtable, because whatever Jeremy’s intentions were, Michael was at least going to make him feel good. Jeremy responded by pushing into the touch and teasing two fingers just under the hem of his binder, which --

_ Knockknockknock _

Michael moved before he’d processed anything, shoving Jeremy off him much harder then he meant to. He winced as, with a startled yelp, his boyfriend bounced off the other side of the bed and careened onto the floor just as his mother opened the door.

“Michael, I’m -- “

“ _ Nanay! Privacy, please! _ ”

He could feel his face getting hot as she wordlessly took in the scene:  Michael breathing hard, not even trying to play this cool, sitting ramrod straight on the bed; Jeremy on the floor, apparently very suddenly; and both of them blushing and disheveled. There could be no doubt about what they had just been doing. Michael kind of wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Thank god she responded in Tagalog. “ _ Michael, step outside with me, please.” _

He swallowed nervously and debated the pros and cons of telling his mother ‘no.’ All it would do was delay the inevitable until Jeremy left and land him in even hotter water. “ _ Now? _ ”

“ _ Yes, now. Please. _ ”

He glanced at Jeremy, still on the floor, looking confused as all hell, and offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Are you okay?”

Jeremy made a face like he was trying to glare but was too nervous to pull it off. “Ow.”

He snorted. Jeremy was fine. “I’ll be right back. Don’t leave?” It wasn’t supposed to be a question, but at the same time, Michael  _ totally _ understood if Jeremy didn’t want to be around for the aftermath of whatever was about to happen.

Jeremy just grimaced in sympathy and nodded.

Michael squeezed his shoulder in thanks and followed his mother into the hallway, making sure the door was closed behind him. At least she looked more amused than upset.

“So, um. What’s up?” he started, wincing at how lame that sounded, even to himself.

When she spoke, it was in a whisper, no doubt because Jeremy almost definitely had his ear pressed to the closed door. “ _ Well, I was going to ask if you want anything from the store, but . . . _ ” She took a deep breath. “ _ Look, I don’t need to know what you and Jeremy do, but are you at least being safe? _ ”

If a conveniently Michael-sized sinkhole could open up directly underneath him right now, that would be  _ great _ . “ _ N-no! I mean, yes! I -- no -- I mean we haven’t even done anything like that yet!” _

_ “Michael, please don’t lie -- “ _

_ “I’m serious. I . . . I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. And I haven’t even talked about it with Jeremy.” _ Which wasn’t a total lie, but still left a weird taste in his mouth to say.

It was just supposed to be a hail mary, to appeal to Nanay’s sympathy and get her off his case. But her expression softened immediately, and she rested her hand on his shoulder. She evidently heard something in his voice that he hadn’t meant to put there, but he always did have a weak spot for his family.

_ “Is this the kind of thing you need to talk to Mom about?” _

He should have said no. He wanted to say no, but what came out was, “ _ Is she home?” _

_ “Not at the moment, but I’m sure you could call her _ .”

“ _ N-no, it’s fine, I’ll find her later.” _

She pulled him into a one-armed hug and kissed the top of his head, and suddenly Michael felt like he was six and just scraped his knee.  _ Stupid _ .

“ _ I’ll be back in an hour or so. And I’m buying you condoms, just in case. My little boy is all grown up!” _

Michael pushed his mother away gently as she laughed. “ _ Nanay, there is absolutely nothing more disturbing than getting emotional over buying your son condoms. Also, please don’t buy us condoms.” _

_ “Just in case!”  _ she called back, and then she was down the stairs and out the door.

Michael sighed and covered his face with his hands. He wanted to scream, but Jeremy was still in the house, and he was pretty sure Mama was too. So he just took a few deep breaths until he felt brave enough to go back into his room and face his boyfriend.

The door swinging open almost hit Jeremy, who hadn’t picked himself off the floor. He sprung to his feet as soon as he saw Michael, but his hands were shaking and he had that wide-eyed look that Michael knew meant his anxiety was acting up. Understandably so.

“A-are you alr-right? D-does sh-sh-she know? I’m s-so sorry. Y-you’re not in t-t-trouble, are you? I’ll -- “

Michael put his hands up in the universal  _ calm down _ gesture. “It’s fine, Jere. This one’s on me. I should’ve made sure the door was locked. She just wanted to make sure we’re being safe.”

Jeremy stared at Michael for a moment, taking deep, quiet breaths, before sitting hard on the bed. “W-what did you tell her?”

He shrugged. “The truth, mostly. That we hadn’t gone that far yet.”

Instead of looking relieved, Jeremy looked pensive, chewing on his lip and staring at something on the floor. That . . . couldn’t be good, and Michael braced himself. “Do you w-want to? I-I-I mean, I figured that was going somewhere before -- all that.”

Michael sighed and took his assigned seat on Jeremy’s left. Did he want to? Yes. Also no. Before they were interrupted, he had thought he was totally dtf, but now he was hiding his trembling fingers by squeezing them between his knees. He wasn’t about to pour his heart out to Jeremy about this. It would probably just offend him or make him feel like shit.

“Honestly, that really killed the mood for me. I’m . . . probably gonna smoke.”

Jeremy nodded. “Same. Uh, about the mood, I mean. Want me to go?”

Michael huffed, stretching across the bed to reach into his bedside drawer. “Never, dude. Unless you want to.”

He shook his head. “I, uh, brought Banjo-Tooie?”

“I’d love to watch you --  _ success _ !” Michael held the old Altoids Sours tin in the air in victory, making Jeremy laugh. Success number two.

He lit up as Jeremy set up the game, and neither of them commented on how Jeremy sucked or how Michael never just wanted to passively watch him play. There was just something weird in the air, now, besides the weed, and Michael didn't know if it was something between them, or just him.

* * *

 

 

It was almost three weeks after that before Michael finally got the courage to talk about it. Another three weeks of excuses, and by then Jeremy  _ definitely _ knew that something was up. He tried to get Michael to talk about it once, and Michael had snapped at him. That was the point he knew he had to bite the bullet.

No, he didn’t want to talk about sex with any of his mothers. Not after their weird collaborative effort at The Talk. (Twice. He had to suffer through that twice, just from them, although admittedly, it was a little more bearable the second time, and Dad’s was much,  _ much  _ worse.) And especially not after Nanay caught him and Jeremy in the middle of a heavy petting sesh. But this was important, and his mothers talked. If he didn’t bring it up with Mom soon, they would all be on his case.

So, three weeks after he received Nanay-approved condoms, he was picking at his nails as he paced in front of his Mom, who, for her part, was sitting mostly patiently on the spare bed in the basement.

God, where to even start? This was  _ stupid _ .

“Michael, sit down, please.”

The tone of her voice said it was a suggestion, so Michael replied, “I’d rather stand, if that’s alright.” He did stop pacing, though.

“What’s wrong, hon? You’re not in trouble, are you?”

“No, I just . . . I’m going through some stuff, and I thought . . . I thought you might be able to . . . help?”

Mom just nodded, not commenting on how nervous Michael was. Thank fuck. “What kind of stuff?”

“Uh. Sexual stuff?”

In sex ed sophomore year, the teacher liked to say, “If you can’t talk about it, you shouldn’t do it,” when people fumbled through questions. If that was true, Michael should never touch a dick again.

“It’s . . . it’s about Jeremy,” he continued. “Kind of.”

Mom leaned forward, listening intently, but her expression was suddenly stern. “You know I love Jeremy, hon, but if he’s forcing you to do anything, I’ll beat his ass. Just say the word, and I’ll --”

Michael couldn’t help but laugh. “No, Mom, it’s nothing like that, I promise. It’s just . . . “ He lost his words and sighed. How to start? The beginning would be best, but he wasn’t about to even hint to any of his parents that he lost his virginity a matter of years ago.  _ Okay, so, when I was hoeing around when I was sixteen  _ \-- absolutely the fuck not.

He finally did take a seat and just launched into it. He told her, vaguely, about how he and Jeremy had done some stuff, how Jeremy always asked to reciprocate even though Michael never let him, how he was so scared things would change between them if they went further. And after all that was out, everything else came pouring after it:  His insecurities, his fears, how others ( _ definitely _ not past sexual partners, just ambiguous  _ others _ ) treated him so differently once they found out he was trans, and sure, Jeremy already knew, but that was worse for some reason, and he didn’t know if he could live with Jeremy treating him differently (again), and and and . . . 

Mom nodded along the whole time, humming every so often but not interrupting. Until Michael finally had words for what he was feeling, in one concise statement:  “I mean, these people, how-how they change when they find out and get distant or grossed out . . . It makes me feel like -- like I’m lovable until they know -- “

“Michael Mell, don’t you dare say it.”

Michael blinked, taken aback. He hadn’t expected his mom to interrupt his rant, but he especially didn’t expect such anger in her voice.

“W-what?”

She took both of Michael’s hands in her own and spoke slowly and deliberately. “You deserve love and kindness.  _ And _ you are trans. They’re not mutually exclusive or inclusive. They’re both facts. If someone disagrees, you don’t need them in your life.”

“I . . . I get that, Mom. But these are people that I . . . their opinion mattered to me. I know how to handle, y’know, bullying and all that, but . . . Mom, if Jeremy does the same thing they all did, I can’t just cut him out of my life. I  _ can’t _ .”

And now there were tears in his eyes and this was so  _ stupid _ because Jeremy already  _ knew _ and he shouldn’t be so scared about this to begin with and -- 

“Oh, sweetie,” Mom sighed. Michael squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to look at the look of pity or empathy or concern or  _ whatever _ on her face. “Jeremy won’t think any differently of you, but I bet you know that already. I think there’s something you’re not telling me, but I’m not going to push it. Can you look at me?”

_ No _ , he thought, but he opened his eyes anyway. His face was so hot -- from the tears in his eyes, embarrassment, anger over the fact that he had to deal with tears now on top of everything else -- fogging up his glasses, which was actually fortunate because he still couldn’t see his mom anyway.

“S-sorry,” he laughed at himself, cruelly. “I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s stupid.”  _ Stupid stupid stupid. _

“It’s not stupid, Michael. We’ve talked about this. Your feelings  _ matter _ . And I know you probably don’t want to know this, but I’ve been through something similar, even recently.”

“Really?” It was hard to imagine that his sweet, confident, take-no-shit Mom went through anything at all similar.

“Yes, really. I can’t speak for everyone, of course, but I feel like it’s pretty common for people like us to feel that way. It’s a valid concern, but you know Jeremy would  _ never _ . When was the last time he even messed up your pronouns?”

Michael thought back. He wasn’t sure if it was a rhetorical question, but he was going to give her an answer anyway. “Probably, like. Eighth grade?”

“Not even when you were fighting last year?”

“N . . . no.”

“And now that you’re doing this ‘stuff?’” she asked with air quotes.

“No, Mom.”

She hummed. “You know what I say, Michael. People wouldn’t have so much trouble with trans people’s pronouns if they actually thought of them as their gender. It seems to me that Jeremy put a lot of effort into changing how he perceived you when you came out, and at this point, it would probably take at least as much work for him to just forget.”

Michael rolled that over in his mind. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t told himself before, just phrased more eloquently. It helped calm him down, at least. The part of his brain screaming that this was all a mistake and that he’d lose Jeremy again was quiet for once -- or, at least, quieter than normal.

“I hear what you’re saying,” he replied finally, “but I’m still scared.”

“ _ Talk _ to him.” It probably should have sounded exasperated, but all Michael heard was concern and insistence. “You’ve always believed in the importance of communication as long as I’ve known you. Even if you don’t tell him everything, you have to give him something. Because I promise you, he’s noticed that something’s wrong, and he’s probably having a crisis of his own.”

Now that --  _ that _ was a punch to the gut if there ever was one. Of course Jeremy would freak out about this. He probably felt selfish, or was scared that Michael wasn’t as into him as he claimed, or any host of other terrible feelings Michael couldn’t even imagine.

But he couldn’t just tell Jeremy about all of this. There was no reality in which saying  _ Hey I’m really into you but I’m terrified for you to touch me _ went well.

“Thanks, Mom,” he said anyway. “I’ll . . . tell him something.”

She squeezed his hands and smiled warmly, which made Michael’s gut twist with guilt. “Any time, sweetheart. You know that I’m always here to help with this kind of thing.”

His mothers were all very fond of that phrase.  _ I’m here for you _ . He just hoped they’d still be there to pick up the pieces if --  _ when _ \-- this all went to shit.

* * *

 

 

It ended like this:  Another Saturday, the second Saturday after Michael poured his heart out to his Mom and promised he’d talk to Jeremy. He hadn’t, of course, and had almost zero intentions to, even though it was immediately obvious that Jeremy knew something was up. Now that Michael was looking for it, he saw how Jeremy looked at him when he thought Michael couldn’t see -- with worry and guilt written all over his face. He noticed how Jeremy never initiated anything anymore, seeming almost afraid to touch him. How Jeremy melted at every compliment and flinched at every teasing remark.

Michael hated it. It reminded him too much of last Fall, except this was directly his fault. What was worse was that he had no idea how long this had been going on.

So, Saturday Michael was ready to grit his teeth and bear through anything that might happen. Ideally, it would be sexy and great and the fear wouldn’t even kick in until afterwards.

Which found them here:  Making out in Michael’s basement. They did this a lot more often than Michael wanted to admit, but they were still teenagers, after all. It was probably less pathetic than it sounded. Besides, recently, they just kind of got stuck there. Not that making out was a bad place to be stuck at all, but the panic of  _ Will This Go Too Far? _ was still hanging out in the back of his mind every time.

Today, though, they were in a position so similar to when they were interrupted that Michael had to keep reminding himself that the door was definitely locked this time. He tried to tap into the same enthusiasm he had last time too, but the mother-approved condoms were sitting upstairs in his dresser and Michael’s heart was pounding and Jeremy’s hands were once again just barely trailing under the edge of his binder and okay. Okay. This was fine. This was good. He could do this.

Jeremy adjusted, just slightly, but just enough that Michael suddenly felt Jeremy’s semi against his thigh. It was a familiar feeling, but he still froze, just for a second.  _ Stupid _ .  _ No, not stupid. Okay, a little stupid _ . He’d straddled Jeremy before. He’d had Jeremy’s dick in his hand and his mouth and fucking jizzing all over his face, for Christ’s sake. This was fine. He could do this. He  _ wanted _ to do this.

“Michael?”

He hadn’t even noticed when Jeremy’s hands started to retreat, when he lifted himself up so that no part of them was touching. He hadn’t even noticed he was squeezing his eyes shut until he had to open them.

It had been so long since his last panic attack, and he didn’t even  _ notice _ .

“Y-yeah?”

“Are you okay? You . . . you’re shaking.”

Michael lifted his hand up in front of his face and, oh, would you look at that, he was. Fuck.

“Huh,” he managed to squeeze out, but it was so hard to breathe. There wasn’t enough air and his lungs wouldn’t cooperate, just sucking in in in until there was no more room but they still tried to suck in more.

Jeremy climbed off him entirely, and no no that wasn’t good. Now that he understood what was happening, he knew what he needed, and that was an anchor. Jeremy had always been the best anchor. That’s why Halloween --

_ Fuck,  _ Halloween --

Jeremy gently hauled Michael up so he was sitting up against the headboard and cradled his face between his hands. That was good. That was so much better.

“Michael, breathe,” Jeremy urged softly, but his voice was trembling. “You remember how you taught me?”

“I-I-I -- “ he stuttered nearly soundlessly.

“Don’t try to talk right now. Just follow my lead, okay?”

Michael pressed one shaking hand against Jeremy’s chest, the other gripping his forearm for dear life, and nodded.

He tried to follow along as best as he could. He had no idea how long it took, but it felt like forever before he could finally convince his body to just breathe  _ out _ , dammit. Once he’d accomplished that, it was much easier to get the hang of matching his breathing to the rise and fall of Jeremy’s chest under his hand. Besides, this wasn’t his first rodeo. He was just a bit out of practise.

Shit, his binder probably wasn’t helping either. Michael rushed to get it off, but he wasn’t wearing the one with the zipper. Oh well, fuck it.

“S-sorry.” His voice cracked. He tried again. “Sorry.”

“What happened? Did I do something wrong?”

How the hell was he supposed to answer that?  _ No, but also yes _ ? It wasn’t Jeremy’s fault. Michael didn’t even recognise his own damn panic attack sneaking up on him until he was already in Can’t Breathe Mode.

Mom was right. They needed to talk. He needed to tell Jeremy  _ something _ , anything that wasn’t an excuse or a straight up lie.

He sighed -- shaky and hitching -- and pried Jeremy’s hands off his face so he could hold them in his own, just like his Mom had done with him a week ago.

“I . . . “ he started, “I do not want to have this conversation.”

Jeremy’s eyes widened, just a little bit. “Michael, whatever it is, you can tell me. I’ve notice you, y’know, you’ve been kind of . . . distant? I don’t think that’s the word I’m looking for, but . . . You’re scaring me, you know? This isn’t like you.”

Michael nodded, staring at their hands so he didn’t have to look at the purely  _ pained _ expression on Jeremy’s face. He was right, though, this,  _ all _ of this, was very out of character for him. “Jeremy, I -- well, first of all, I’m sorry. I should’ve said something s-sooner.” Fuck. He took another deep breath, hoping it would help keep his voice steady. “I’m . . . so goddamn scared, Jere. And I feel like I can’t even tell you why because you wouldn’t understand and you’d probably blame yourself or get offended or something.”

“Is this . . . hmm. Is this a trans thing? Like, dyslexia -- nope. Dysmorphia? Or something?”

“Dysphoria,” Michael corrected mindlessly, lacking the energy to even laugh. He’d make a mental note to pick on Jeremy for that later. “And no, I really don’t think so. This isn’t about that or you or -- well, it kind of is, but that’s not the point.”

“Okay. Do you want to tell me what this is about?”

It was an out. Jeremy was offering it on a silver platter, and Michael was so tempted to take it. But he was so tired of feeling this way. He was sick of denying and deflecting and making Jeremy worry.

“It’s . . . I . . . I don’t even know where to start. I’m pretty fucked up. And it’s so  _ stupid _ , Jere. I know that, but I just -- I --  _ fuck _ . If I tell you this, you have to promise not to get angry or -- or blame yourself or anything, okay?”

Jeremy was quiet for a long moment, considering it, before nodding solemnly.

Michael sighed in relief. It wasn’t a guarantee, of course. Jeremy didn’t know what he was about to say, but it was now or never. “I just. I want to have sex with you, okay? I really do. I’m just -- I’m  _ terrified _ that you’ll . . . y’know. Uh. Fuck, okay. When I first started hooking up, I would tell people that I was trans. And sometimes they’d freak out and get all angry and everything else bigots do. But sometimes they’d be totally cool with it and we’d get going and they’d see what I was working with and just . . . freak.” Michael winced at the word, but it was accurate. “Some were worse than others, but they all hurt. And I barely knew these people. I’m so scared that you’ll do the same thing. And before you say  _ anything _ \-- I know it’s stupid, okay? I  _ know. _ You were the first person I came out to  _ years _ ago, and you never slipped up with my pronouns or my name, even when you were Squipped, and you’ve seen me naked before, but not like this, and I’m scared that something’s gonna change. I -- I can’t lose you again, Jere, I  _ can’t _ .”

Michael’s grip on Jeremy’s hands had to be painful, but Jeremy didn’t say anything. Michael couldn’t even look up to see the look on Jeremy’s face, to get some kind of inkling of what he was thinking.

His chest was tight with panic again. He fought it down as best he could, breathing deep, but tears just sprang to his eyes instead.

Words sprang to his lips, unbidden, about how he wasn’t exaggerating, Jake’s Halloween party was the worst night of his life, he wanted nothing more than to go home and just  _ die _ because it would make the hurting stop. But he shoved that down too, because the last thing he was going to do was guilt Jeremy into staying or saying something he didn’t believe.

Finally, Jeremy squeezed Michael’s hands back and leaned in close. “I would  _ never _ , Michael.  _ Never _ , do you hear me? You’ve been my best friend since we were, what, fetuses? And you’re my boyfriend, and I love you so much it hurts, and I can’t even -- I --  _ fuck _ ! I’m not angry at you, I promise. I’m pissed at these dudes who  _ hurt _ you. And I . . . I guess I’m one of them. Dammit. Can I tell you something?”

Michael was stunned. Jeremy’s outburst was enough to startle him into looking  away from their hands and up towards his face. Jeremy looked close to tears himself, going from concerned to pissed to scared in the blink of an eye.

“Uh. Sh-shoot, I guess.”

“I’ve told you how it -- the Squip -- would, y’know. Shock me. When I did something wrong. At first it was just stuff like -- stand up straight. Make eye contact. Y-you know all of this. When it got more powerful, it  _ really _ started hating when I didn’t do what it told me to. So I just . . . did what it told me to. It would shock the everloving shit out of me if I didn’t.” Jeremy took a deep breath, and Michael really wanted to say something, but he plowed on.

“It was really determined to get rid of you.” Michael flinched. Yeah, they’d talked about that too, but it still hurt. “I guess it knew something I didn’t. It blocked you from my vision, right? But I still thought about you a lot. The shocks couldn’t make it stop, so instead, it tried putting these thoughts in my head. They --  _ fuck _ , Michael, they were terrible! It kept encouraging me to -- to misgender you and call you by, you know, your deadname. I guess it was trying to program this, like, Pavlovian response to you.”

Thinking back, he was sure that Jeremy had never done any of those things, not since he struggled with the initial switch. Then again, Michael could count on one hand the number of times Jeremy talked to him while Squipped. Had Jeremy talked about him to other people, behind his back? Questions for later, not right now.

“I couldn’t do it.”

Jeremy wasn’t looking at him, eyes darting between posters on the wall instead. His face was red and his eyes were shiny, but his voice was steady as it ever was.

“What?”

“I couldn’t do it, Michael. Not even once. That stupid -- fuckin’ -- OP floppy disk broke me down and built me into something I wasn’t, but it couldn’t overwrite it. Old files in the recycling bin, I guess? I don’t know. A lot happened at Jake’s party, and I regret literally all of it, but I was so  _ scared _ that if the Squip came back on when I ran into you that it would take over and make me call you . . . all of that. I’m not going to say I didn’t mean what I said, but, well, we already hashed it out. But I also thought . . . if you left me alone on your own, maybe the Squip would just drop it. Like a fucking idiot. You know. But I could not and  _ would  _ not do that to you. It just feels so  _ wrong _ . Like, I hate to state the obvious, but you’re not a girl. I can’t possibly think of you as one.”

“So -- “

“So the point is, I still feel a shock down my back when I pull up porn on my computer. It conditioned me to feel that and to be scared. It did that with a lot of things that I did and that I loved. Hell, dude, it made Rich  _ forget _ that he’s  _ bi _ , and I bet it would’ve done that to me too. But it couldn’t make me forget that you’re  _ Michael _ and you’re a dude. Even when I would remember stuff from way back when, like when we were kids -- “

“Jeremy,” Michael interrupted. He was surprised to hear how choked with emotion his own voice was. Sure, he was an emotional guy, but this was the second time in like a week he just started sobbing. “I . . . I don’t even know what to say.”

“Please don’t cry!” Jeremy sounded so panicked, considering he looked about ready to let the floodgates open too. “Michael, I-I’m sorry I made this all about me. That’s not at all what I was trying to do. I was just trying to show you that I can’t  _ possibly _ think of you any differently. If a supercomputer from Japan implanted into my brain couldn’t do that, nothing else can. I mean, shit, dude, the first time you got me off, I asked to eat you out, and it didn’t happen, but nothing changed after that. I’m man enough to admit that I think about eating you out  _ a lot _ , and still nothing has changed.”

That startled a laugh out of Michael, which in turn made Jeremy smile and laugh with relief.

“Thank you,” Michael choked out. “And, by the way, I love you too. Can we make a plan?”

“Hit me.”

“I’m . . . so fucking tired. I just had a panic attack and then bared my soul and bawled my eyes out in the span of, what, an hour and a half? Two hours? Whatever. I’m tired as shit. How about we go upstairs and just . . . cuddle and go to bed? And then tomorrow, we can take it slow, maybe work up to that? Because I was serious, Jere, I  _ really _ want to have sex with you, but I can’t promise I’ll suddenly be super comfortable with it twelve hours later.”

Jeremy leaned forward for a kiss. It was chaste, sweeter than usual, but Michael still found himself melting into it and grinning like an idiot when he pulled away.

“Only if you tell me when you’re uncomfortable before you have a panic attack. I don’t want to do anything you’re not one-hundred-percent enthusiastic about.”

Michael kissed him again, pouring every sappy emotion he was feeling into it and hoping Jeremy got the message. “Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: I forgot to mention that the entirety of Michael's conversation with his Nanay is in Tagalog. I'm sure y'all could've figured that out, but I wanted to clarify anyway. Thanks for the love!


End file.
